Carolyn POV

I drove us to Atlantic City.

Normally, I have no problem letting Mike drive. He enjoys it, and I have to admit that I tend to get caught up in my own head sometimes rather than paying attention to the road, so it usually worked out better if he took the wheel.

But not tonight.

I was so glad that Bobby had texted him to tell him to come down.

I'd been afraid that maybe they wouldn't get the chance to meet with Strathmore tonight.

I didn't want Mike to have to wait any longer. I knew that his anxiety about the situation was getting to him.

The mind is funny thing. It usually managed to create a worse scenario in the brain than what would take place in reality. Maybe it was a self-preservation technique, I don't know.

It kept expectations low to avoid disappointment.

Right now, I had no idea what Mike's expectations were.

So even though I had the siren flashing and the pedal pushed to the floor, I cast a look in Mike's direction.

He was staring out of the passenger side window, and his features appeared calm, yet he was giving himself away. He was playing with his pinky ring, turning it around and around.

I found it to be an endearing tell, one that he'd had as long as I'd known him. And so I decided that the ring was as good a topic as any to try to draw him from his shell.

"You've never told me where you got that ring," I said as I shifted my eyes back to the road.

"I haven't?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the blaring siren.

"No."

"It was my father's," he replied, shifting in his seat so that he was facing me. "My mother gave it to him when they got married. When he left her…when he left us…he um…he left it behind."

"For you?"

"No, just…I guess he didn't want it any more. After he'd been gone for a couple of weeks, my mom made me pack up all of his stuff. She told me to dump it in the trash, but I...I couldn't do that, so I took it to a homeless shelter in the neighborhood."

"Except for the ring."

"Yeah. I wanted something of his in case…well, you know. In case I never saw him again."

"And did you? See him again after that?"

"Um…no," he said on a sigh. And then he let out a low chuckle. "And boy did it ever cheese my mom off to see me wearing the ring."

And even though he was laughing, I knew what his words meant. She'd most likely beaten him senseless.

"It's nice that you have a tangible reminder of him," I said, shaking off the mental image of Mike as a child, at the mercy of that relentless woman.

"It's not just that," he said after a minute. I was surprised that he wanted to elaborate. When it came to the topic of his past, he would usually answer my questions, but he rarely offered more than what was asked.

"It's not a reminder?" I asked.

"Well, it is that, but I mean that it's not just of him. It's both of them."

"Because she bought it for him at a time when they were in love," I deduced. "It is nice to know that there was at least one point when your parents loved each other, even if you never got to witness it personally."

"No," he said.

I felt his hand slip along the back of my neck, his fingers coming to rest just beneath the collar of my blouse.

"It's a reminder of how not to be," he explained. "I had a shrink once who told me that my lot in life was predetermined. I was abused and therefore I would eventually become the abuser."

"What?" I nearly shouted. "What kind of a professional would say something like that?"

"Yeah, I know," he replied with a shrug. "I was fourteen, and I'd gotten into a fight at school. The other kid's parents wanted to press charges, so…it turned into a whole thing. But instead of getting sent to juvie, I ended up having to go to court-mandated therapy to resolve my anger issues."

He moved his fingers along the back of my neck, gently rubbing the tight muscles.

"Can you imagine that? Me, having anger issues?" he asked sardonically.

"Mike," I began, although I wasn't entirely sure what to say. Exactly how much had he been forced to endure as a child?

"And I know that the shrink was wrong," he said quickly. "I mean, I know it now. I'm not still worried about that. Not really anyway. Of course it's always a possibility that a child will become like his parent, but it's also just as possible that he won't."

He paused for a minute, seemingly deeply entrenched in memories. When he spoke again, his voice sounded so resigned.

"I keep wearing the ring because it reminds me of my past. I like to think that it helps me to keep from repeating it."

I was almost sorry that I had asked. I mean, I was glad to know it, but I was trying to relax him and yet I'd dredged up more memories.

"I'm sorry that I never told you before," he continued.

"You told me now," I replied.

It was odd to have such a solemn and quiet conversation while barreling down the interstate at an insane rate of speed, but it felt somewhat fitting.

Our lives were a continuous juxtaposition of frenzied action and tender moments, but it was who we were, and neither of us would have it any other way.

"I know how Rhonda first learned about my mother," he said after we'd traveled several more miles. He was now running his fingers through my hair as though it was comforting him to be comforting me.

"You do? Did she tell you?"

"No. But we know that she went through my wallet, right?"

"Uh huh."

"I remembered something else that I used to keep in it."

"What was that?"

"Her obituary."

"You kept your mother's obituary notice in your wallet?"

"I know," he said as he let out a deep breath. "It's weird."

"It's not weird. It's just…different."

"Oh no, sweetheart. It's weird," he insisted on a laugh. "But you know, I just hated her so much…it was such a relief when she died that I found myself reading the words over and over. I had a hard time adjusting to the idea that she was actually gone."

"That's not surprising. She wielded a power over you for so long that to you she seemed invincible. And for something like an illness to finally take her away…"

"It seemed too good for her. And how sick does that make me? I actually wished for a more violent death for my own mother."

"She was a violent woman. It would've been fitting," I replied. "It doesn't make you sick at all. It makes you human. Because even though you may have wished for it, you never did it yourself. And you could have, many times over. It would've been justifiable."

He was quiet and thoughtful for a few moments longer.

"So you don't still keep it in there?" I asked finally.

"No. I took it out not too long after we got together. It wasn't serving any purpose. Not like the ring. And honestly, I really just didn't want to think about her anymore."

"The ring doesn't serve a purpose either," I said. I'd initially planned to let that misconception go for now, but since he'd brought it up again I decided to approach it head on. "You would never be abusive. Just because it was in her, that doesn't mean that it's in you. In fact, I know that it's not in you. We've argued, and I've gotten up in your face, but never once have I ever been afraid that you would hurt me."

"Sweetheart, that's because you would mop up the floor with me," he said, letting out another chuckle.

"I'm being serious," I insisted.

I knew that he wanted to lighten the mood, but I wanted him to understand my point.

And I hated that I couldn't look him in the eye while I said the words, but instead, I reached back and grabbed his hand that had been stroking my hair.

I pulled it down to rest on my leg and then laced my fingers through his.

"That ring doesn't keep you from being abusive," I told him. "You keep you from that."

He was quiet again for a long time, and I let him be.

He held my hand until we approached the outskirts of Atlantic City. Then he let it go so that I could have both hands for driving through traffic.

I turned off the lights and siren since we were off of the interstate and slowed down until my speed matched the flow of traffic.

When I came to a stop at a red light, he held out his hand to me again. I thought he wanted to hold mine, but instead he was offering me something.

"Hang on to this for me, will you?" he asked as he put his ring in the palm of my hand.

"Mike, I didn't mean that you shouldn't wear it. I only meant that you didn't need to wear it."

"I know," he said, closing my fingers around the ring. "And it's hard for me to accept that, but I trust you. So I'm going to trust you to give it back to me if you ever think that I do need it. Okay?"

"Okay," I agreed.

I was swamped with raw emotion by his display of love and trust. How could he possibly think that he would ever hurt me?

Still clutching the ring, I leaned over and kissed him. It began as slow and exploratory, but it quickly built in intensity and we went at it until the driver of the car behind us started honking the horn.

I pulled away and settled back into my own seat before carefully slipping his ring onto my index finger so that I wouldn't lose it.

"You should text Bobby and let him know we're here," I told him as I pulled away from the intersection.

"I can," he said, the tease back in his voice. "But I was kind of hoping we'd catch another red light."

But he did send a text, and within a couple of minutes, he got a response which included directions to the Malloy Towers Hotel.

I'd heard of it before, but I hadn't put it together with Strathmore. His finances were a maze of corporations and conglomerates and I wondered if even he knew exactly how much he was worth.

We arrived at the hotel and left the car with the valet.

Mike paused inside the lobby and took a deep breath.

"Why am I nervous?" he asked me. "What difference does it make whether he likes me or not?"

"It doesn't make any," I assured him.

"I made it through my whole life without him. What will it hurt me if I go the rest of my life without him?"

"It won't."

"Exactly. So why do I care?"

"Because that's what kind of man you are. It's one of the reasons why I love you."

"You're going to stay with me?" he asked, and his vulnerability nearly broke my heart.

Please let this guy be nice.

But I had to trust that Bobby and Alex would've at least warned us if he was bad news.

"For however long you want me," I promised.

"I want you forever, sweetheart," he whispered as he wrapped his arms around me.

I knew that he was trying to get his balance. It had certainly been a tough thing to find lately. But he seemed to find it in me, and I was grateful to be able to provide that kind of stability for him.

"Okay, let's do this," he said when he finally stepped back.

He took my hand in his and together we walked to the entrance of the restaurant.

TBC...

A/N: There is nothing wrong with my ability to compute facts and figures. 50 / 50.